let the dead bury their dead but let me bury you

this end can’t begin until you call me to the sea
and point out all the dead bodies
of the last fourteen years.
why explore when I can negate my self-worth
though unanswered job applications
and an ever-growing distance between us?
fighting takes resolve,
and youth,
and I am in short supply of both
with the fading of your image
with each return to this desk.
at least we laughed
and you still laugh
so that makes one of us.
enough time has festered to pass
secrets and diseases
and i’m an embarrassment to myself,
at least you don’t need to see my like this for long.

a postcard goodbye
when the rest had forgotten
physical media,
an effort laughed at by the middling and unconscious.

there’s a tambourine in the other room
and if it was held by a hand
i’d shoot the player,
but wedding-bed vibrations
move it to shake and sing.


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